Let Rage The Frozen Storm
by Synch
Summary: A new threat to the Company has arisen. It will require the combined efforts of Michael "Havoc" Torres and Sarah Jane Noonan, the two deadliest agents in the Organization, to combat it.


_**Isla Cangrejos, South Caribbean Sea; Not So Distant Future**_

Michael Torres, once known as Havoc, formerly one of the most feared Agents in the Organization, now known only as the retired Richard Cypress, though nobody knew quite what exactly he had retired from doing, stood on his back patio, letting the cool island breeze flow over his nearly nude form. His muscular body glistened in the moonlight from the late swim that had plastered his black hair against his skull.

The object of his gaze was invisible, even to his enhanced senses. Still he stared, as if sheer force of will could move the trees out of the way and allow him to see across the intervening miles to the only other villa of any interest to him. A villa that had only recently found itself occupied.

His slightly luminescent eyes, though purely white and blank, were nonetheless definitely lost in thought. His harsh face was pulled into a thoughtful frown as he considered that lone occupant. Sarah Jane Noonan, once known as the Black Widow, now known only as Alicia Cypress, my younger sister. At one time she was the only other Agent within that same Organization who had been able to instill the same level of terror as he once had.

And now, like him, she was forced to spend her life in exile, hidden from the man who had once tried to kill them, and would certainly attempt it once again if even a whisper of their survival reached him. Separated from the other half of their souls. He had never seen the man Sarah had given her heart to. His exile had begun long before the man born Gabriel Gray, now known as Sylar, had made a mark for himself.

As it had at least once a day, every day, since he had been forced into hiding, the woman with whom he had fallen in love, without even realizing it at first, swam into his mind's eye. Elle Bishop. The golden haired vixen that had stolen his heart. He could almost smell her- that peculiar blend of sweet and spicy mixed with electrons shredding the ozone. Had anyone been observing him, they would have been treated to an unusual sight. As his blank eyes continued to stare into the canopy of trees, a single tear escaped the corner of one eye, carved its way down his cheek, and dropped unnoticed to the wooden floor at his feet.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hartsdale, New York; October 3, 2003<strong>_

As he entered the room Angela had prepared for him, he heard a slight whisper behind him, the softest sound of someone catching their breath.

Havoc dropped into a crouch, one hand diving into his black leather duster and grabbing a knife while the other jerked a forty-five from the small of his back. Before he had even finished dropping in the defensive position his senses caught up to him. Spinning around, he caught sight of who his nose informed him was present.

Sarah Jane Noonan, the Black Widow, the Company assassin, didn't move. She stood where she had apparently been since before he had entered the apartments, impassive and cold. Everything about her, from her stance to her heartbeat to her scent, indicated that, although she was confidant she could handle him if it came down to it, she wasn't there to attack.

Angela Petrelli smirked as she watched them both react in their own manner to the presence of the other. "I thought it time for you two to meet. After all, you'll be spending a good deal of time together in the near future." At Havoc's sudden intake of breath and Sarah's slightly inquisitive glance, she dropped the smirk and nodded. "Yes, you heard me correctly. You're now partners for the foreseeable future." Turning to go, she threw a coldly amused glance over her shoulder. "Play nice."

When Angela had disappeared through the sealed doors, Havoc slipped the weapons back into place. Unfurling from the crouch, he began to pace around his unexpected visitor with a nearly feline grace. His white eyes focused on her face as he used every one of his senses to find out what, exactly, was going on. Angela had given him one answer, but he knew without needing told that there was more to the story. Finally he gave a single cold and calculating nod. "Noonan."

She smirked. "Very good. You know my name. Have they taught you any other tricks lately? Sit? Roll over? Beg?"

Smiling a frozen smile that never reached any portion of his face other than his lips, he slipped out of the duster and threw it over the back of a nearby chair. "Oh, I know more than just a few tricks, Sarah, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm disinclined to show them to you." The smile warmed slightly, becoming salacious and insinuating as he raised an eyebrow and ran his eyes over her body. "You could always ask your sister about them." The smile became a sneer. "I know how…_close_…you two are."

Instead of rising to the bait, she simply continued to smirk, although her voice dropped into an angry snarl. "She's not my sister, _Torres_." The use of his last name, a last name he hadn't even been aware existed until sometime in the past eight months, was a deliberate, though typically subtle, refusal to let him control the conversation. And she could tell by the look on his face, the subtle shifting in his eyes and features, that he got the point. "And I have no interest in any…tricks…that psychotic little bitch thinks-"

Before she could finish the statement, before she could even blink, Havoc had leapt across the intervening space, grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. While she gasped for air, he held the pistol that had appeared in his clenched fist to her left breast. His voice, deep and gravelly at the best of times, emerged in a whisper that she nearly felt more than heard. "You can say whatever the fuck you want to about me, bitch. I could give a shit. But don't you fucking dare even THINK of saying a damn thing about Elle."

Digging the pistol into her breast, he waited for either an acknowledgment or a hint of pain. Instead, he was thrown against the wall by her telekinesis with such force that dust fell and several ribs were bruised, while others were broken. Dropping to the floor, he saw her eyes sparking with nearly murderous rage. "Keep your FUCKING hands to yourself, you fucking PRICK! I will not be manhandled again!"

Rising to his feet, he grinned coldly. "Right. Got it. No hands." With a barely visible movement of his hands, he sent two flickering missiles straight at her throat and chest.

Rolling her eyes, she held up her hand with a heavy sigh, stopping the knives before they could reach her. "Seriously, Havoc, when are you going to figure it out? Anything you can do," with a twist of her hand she gave him back the knives, "I can do better."

"MOTHER FUCKER!" The pained roar came as he wrenched the knives from his groin and shoulder. "Really? You couldn't just send them in my general direction? You had to fucking pin my dick to the wall? Do you have any idea how much that fucking hurts?" While he cursed at her, he whipped out another pistol and drilled her with five shots.

The bullets never quite reached her. Instead, they described a perfect parabolic orbit around her and came roaring at him without seeming to have lost any speed. Time seemed to slow as they tore through leg and arm muscles, dropping him to the ground. As he swore, he heard an all too familiar keening filling the room. Raising his eyes, he saw her dark hair begin to float as a sourceless wind began to roar, throwing him against the wall again. He remembered the blackness now filling her eyes from that first and last time, several years ago, when they had sparred against each other under the watchful eye of Noah Bennet. "Shit. This is going to hurt like hell."

As his blood pressure soared, his heart pounding to force suddenly sluggish blood through seemingly blocked vessels, he forced himself into a contorted position, reaching into his boot. As his head throbbed, waves of pain building into an agonizing crescendo as his brain attempted to escape the vise that seemed to grip his head, he straightened back up.

While his limbs burned with invisible fire, he threw the blade with unerring skill. Just before the agonizing death took him in its grip, he smiled briefly. Screaming out a taunt with his last breath, he crossed the line into the black abyss of death, making a mental note to check her file later in order to find out why this version of Sarah Noonan embraced her gift so completely, when the last time he had encountered her she had seemed terrified of it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Isla Cangrejos, South Caribbean Sea; Not So Distant Future<strong>_

"Who is she?"

Michael smiled as the least docile of his two companions padded onto the balcony. "Just an old friend, Seth."

"So we don't get to rip out her throat?" The obvious disappointment in the voice made him laugh as he turned to face the animal that had been one of his only companions in exile.

The black and gold serval sat on the table, blinking lazily in the moonlight. Even in his sleep, Seth was never calm. There was a brutal rage that always clung to him. In that, they were a lot alike. "I'm afraid not, old friend."

Opening a beer, he dropped into a crouch and rested his head against the railing. "At least, not today. Unless I miss my guess, we'll be leaving this place soon. Then will come the time for blood." He closed his eyes and a brief smile flashed across his face as he thought of Robert Bishop's bloody, broken and manifestly dead body.

Seth growled low in his throat, a rumble of pleasure at the prospect of violence, then leapt over the rail and padded into the darkness. From experience, Michael knew it would be several days before he returned. Shrugging, he tossed back the beer, stood with a stretch, then headed inside.

Ducking into the small closet in his bedroom, he pried open a seemingly broken power outlet and pressed the revealed button. His thumbprint was immediately verified, and the floor began its slow descent. He was only mildly surprised when Aňa jumped down onto the lift only seconds before the door sealed itself. Raising an eyebrow as the lift continued to lower, he grinned.

Cocking her head slightly, she ruffled her fur as she pushed against his knee. "Why do you come down here?"

He was silent for another couple minutes as the lift finished its quarter mile descent. Stepping into the gymnasium and workshop, built personally by him less than a month after moving in, he looked around. Everything he needed, everything he could even think of needing, was available to him.

Looking back down, he laughed coldly as he stripped down and began his mental preparations. "It's time for Havoc to, once again, become the most dangerous predator on the planet."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hartsdale, New York; October 3, 2003<strong>_

Blinking his eyes, Havoc rotated his neck and rested his head against the wall. Looking down at his body, he saw the red crust on his arms where blood had dried. Gently raising his left hand, he brushed at the same substance under his eyes, mouth and nose. Breathing deeply, he looked up to find Sarah Noonan staring coldly at him. He grinned arrogantly. "How long was I gone this time?"

Sarah didn't answer his smile. "Less than an hour. Next time, I'll make your fucking head explode, understand?"

He shook his head. "Whatever. Did you hear anything while you were in your little death trance?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No. Why?"

He shrugged. "Nothing much. Take a look behind you though."

He narrowed his eyes and watched as she glanced over her shoulder. He saw her body tense slightly as her eyes focused on the blade sticking out of the wall. He saw her compare where it was to where she had been standing when he had thrown it just before dying. It had missed her shoulder by less than an inch. Turning her eyes back to him, she shrugged. "You didn't have to point it out. I already know you're good at missing."

He lurched to his feet quickly, stumbling forward and wrenching the knife out of the wall. Spinning, he flipped it into the air. Before she could react, he grabbed it by the blade and hurled it into her shoulder. As she stumbled backward, clasping the blade in temporary shock, he grabbed her by the hair and punched her in the stomach, hard enough to make her lose her breath but not hard enough to actually injure her. "Listen, ice bitch, I don't fucking miss a thing. The next time this goes down between us, that knife is going to carve its way into your pretty little skull just below your left fucking eye, got it?" Without waiting for her reply, he stalked toward the doorways. Using his free hand, he punched the code and opened the door, deliberately smacking her into the sill as he stalked through.

Once the second door opened, he ripped the blade free from her shoulder and threw her into the hall, watching her bounce off the opposite wall. "Get to the hospital wing and get that shoulder fixed up. We're supposed to be partners, and I don't feel like listening to you bitch about that shoulder, understand?"

Once again he didn't bother listening to her reply before keying in the code and closing the door in her infuriated face.

Back inside the room, he swore under his breath and sagged to the ground, letting his body finish recovering from the unusually painful death he had just survived. Once he was capable of walking, he went to the phone on his desk and called Noah. "What the fuck happened to Noonan?"

He could hear the amusement in the man's voice. "I take it you two met again?"

Havoc rolled his eyes. "You could say that. I know this room's wired, so check out the video. I'm sure it'll be interesting. Now, what the fuck happened to her?"

Noah's voice immediately became calculating, as if each word was being carefully weighed. "I'm not certain what you mean."

"Don't give me that shit, Noah! Something changed. It's more than the fact that she apparently decided to stop being Goth Barbie. Hell, it's more than the fact that she's gone from being a teenager who was unusually good at killing to a competent, and extremely fucking dangerous, Company assassin. She's different. She's cold as ice, and doesn't seem to give a damn about much of anything." He paused for a second as a stray memory came back. "Wait a minute. I take that back." The look of acceptance, even desire, on her face as she saw the knife in the wall where her head should have been crossed his mind. "Does that crazy bitch have a death wish?"

He could hear Noah's sigh of frustration. "Not exactly. Listen, are you free in an hour?"

"Yeah. Nothing much planned other than a shower."

"Good. Meet me outside. We need to talk."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Isla Cangrejos, South Caribbean Sea; Not So Distant Future<strong>_

Richard Cypress stared around the nearly empty bar in silent appreciation. He had come for a drink, but the sight of the ladies in their standard attire that bordered on nudity made him realize that he had another itch that needed scratched. He frowned quickly as he turned back to his drink for a minute. They were all undeniably gorgeous, and if he could find one of them to be both amenable and single, he knew they would spend several days exploring every border of hedonistic abandon they could find, but he also knew it wouldn't feel the same. It never did. It never could. Although some of the ladies present definitely made his libido race, none of them were the small, perfect, blonde powerhouse he knew now he would always love.

Tossing back his drink, he glanced into the mirror and made eye contact with a bronze beauty. After she raised an eyebrow in invitation, he turned on his stool and deliberately let his eyes, which the contact lenses made appear normal in appearance and color, trace her body slowly. The emerald bikini top, barely amounting to some string with a pair of triangles to cover the nipples, perfectly accentuated her full breasts, slightly larger than a handful each. The shorts she was wearing, falling maybe a quarter inch down her thighs, were so tight that he briefly wondered how she pulled them on, and were low enough on her hips to reveal a considerable amount of the thong bikini bottoms that matched the top.

Lifting his eyes, he realized she had not only allowed his gaze but had measured him in much the same way. He recognized the look and the scent. Closing his eyes briefly, he listened as her heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation of the question she wanted him to ask. When he opened them again, he met her eyes with a quick smile. Raising an eyebrow, he gestured at the stool next to him.

When she slid onto the stool, carefully rubbing her body against his as she did so, he signaled the bartender for a couple of drinks. Once they were delivered, he glanced back over at the beauty beside him. Speaking in Spanish, he grinned. "So, come here often?"

She smiled shyly and answered in the same language. "Sometimes."

He chuckled to himself. _So, we're not much for small talk. Works for me_. Eyeing her salaciously, he smiled mischievously. "Any plans for the next couple days?"

Returning the glance and the smile, she laughed before laying her hand on his thigh, letting her fingertips brush the bulge in his shorts. "I'm on vacation for the next week. So, no, I don't have any plans for the next several days." The slight stress she placed on the word _several_ suggested that she was formulating plans that would keep them both busy for most of that time.

Raising an eyebrow, he gently touched her hand before resting his own hand on her thigh, deliberately letting a finger slip under the bottom hem of the shorts and caress her lightly. "Well, far be it from me to get in the way of your dancing and partying."

Catching her breath, she shrugged. "Oh, I think the two of us can have our own private party…and I think it's time we got out of here to start dancing on our own?"

Laughing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out enough money to cover their tabs. Pulling her to her feet, he led her outside and to his yacht. At her questioning glance, he shrugged. "I only live about five miles away, but I think it may take us most of the day to get there."

Laughing, she gently bit his ear and slipped her hand into his shorts, begin a slow stroking motion.

Shuddering in anticipation, he gently pushed her away. "Give me a few minutes, gorgeous. I have to get us out of here."

With a false pout, she stepped back and let the bikini top fall away. "I suppose."

Less than twenty minutes later, they were anchored in a secluded bay where he knew they would be alone for several hours. Leaving the wheelhouse, he found her lying on the deck, sunning, with her clothes folded near her, face down. Smiling to himself, he quietly approached her. He knelt down, dropping to his hands and knees, and gently began to kiss his way up her legs.

When she moaned and rolled over, he knew what she wanted. Within minutes, anyone travelling past the lonely and abandoned cove would have heard her screams of ecstasy as he brought her to the first of several climaxes.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hartsdale, New York; October 3, 2003<strong>_

Havoc blinked behind his dark sunglasses as he looked for Noah Bennet. It had been an unseasonably warm October, and the sun was almost painfully bright. He felt a hand on his shoulder only seconds after catching the scent he was searching for. Turning around, he allowed a brief smile to cross his lips. If there was anyone in the Company he trusted, and even considered a friend, it was the man standing in front of him. "Hello, Noah."

"Michael." Glancing around quickly, he swore as he saw Thompson walking through the outdoor court. "Let's take a drive."

Once in the car, Havoc glanced at his mentor. "What was that about?"

Noah didn't look at him. "What was what about?"

Havoc rolled his eyes. "Back there with Thompson?"

Clearing his throat meaningfully, he threw a look out of the corner of his eye and mouthed a single word. _Bugged_.

Havoc swore silently. _Where were my brains? This is a Company car. Of __**course**__ it's fucking bugged!_ Shrugging, he turned on the radio and flipped through the channels until a classic rock song he recognized came on. "Sorry, maybe it was my imagination. I'm still a little rattled from the way this reassignment came up."

We were silent for several minutes, the only sound in the car coming from the cheap radio.

_Here I am, on the road again._

_There I am, up on the stage._

_Here I go, playin' the star again._

_There I go, turn the page._

He smiled as Noah turned the car off. They were at a small coffee shop on the outskirts of Hartsdale. The fact that it wasn't a regular Company hangout meant that, whatever was going to be discussed, Noah didn't want it overheard.

Once inside, they both ordered coffee and a biscuit and waited for several minutes in silence. Finally, Havoc leaned back. "So, you want to tell me what that was all about back there?"

Noah raised an eyebrow. "All what?"

Havoc shook his head in irritation. "Don't try and game me, Noah. We both know what I'm talking about. For just a second you looked like you wanted to kill him. Then you looked worried."

Noah shifted uncomfortably. "I don't trust him. I don't like him. He's playing a game of his own, using the Organization to pursue his own ends." Coughing, he leaned back. "You already know he likes to sample the Company pool. I suspect he's putting the moves on your new partner."

Havoc laughed. "I hope he does. She'll kill him if he tries, and I kind of want to be there to watch it."

Noah shook his head. "I'm not so sure anymore. Back when she was on top of her game? Absolutely. Now? I just don't know."

Havoc shrugged. "Trust me. She's still on top of her game. If you don't believe me, watch the tape."

"I already did. That's part of what I'm talking about." Noah cleared his throat and reached into his jacket. Sliding a manila envelope across the table, he sipped his coffee. "That's her file. It'll tell you part of what's going on, but not all of it."

Opening it up, Havoc thumbed through the pieces of paper and photographs in silence before looking back at him. "So tell me what isn't in the file."

Leaning back, he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his temples. "In a nutshell, that girl is seriously fucked up. I'm frankly surprised to see her on her feet and in action."

"It says she killed some guy named Randy Paladini. It doesn't say why, which means it wasn't an approved mission. What happened?"

Noah took a deep breath, and then leaned forward. "Listen, I'll tell you this only because you need to know who and what you're dealing with now. _Nobody_ is to know about this, okay?"

Raising an eyebrow, Havoc nodded. "Of course. Whatever you tell me, I didn't hear."

"Good. The first thing you need to know is that Sarah was in the same damn room when her parents were killed. She doesn't remember what happened, but she has regular nightmares about it. She remembers waking up covered in their blood. Since then, she has been inside the Company and groomed to be the perfect little killer. Everything went great until she was allowed to go to college. She met a man, fell in love and got married. She left the Company and moved in with her new husband, prepared to live happily ever after."

With a deep sigh, he cleaned his glasses and put them back on. "Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. It turns out that this cocksucker had a record of domestic violence complaints a mile long. I'm still not sure if the Company missed it, or deliberately overlooked it. I'm kind of hoping the former, but I'm not willing to bet on it. Anyway, he beat the living shit out of her one night, ending her up in the hospital. After she recovered, she went home with him. I don't know what the hell she was thinking, since most of the people I know in the Organization were more than willing to welcome her back."

Suddenly, a stray memory flitted through Havoc's memory. He remembered, near the beginning of his last mission, hearing Bob on the phone with Linderman. They were talking about how close to death Noonan had been after something happening. Somehow, Havoc glanced at Noah through hooded eyes for a minute. _Somehow, I don't think Noah has a clue what that was really all about._

Noah, seemingly without a clue that there was a subtext he was missing, continued his story. "Anyway, everything seems fine for a little while. Apparently this Randy asshole was apologetic and everything seemed to go back to the way it had been. Only Sarah didn't entirely trust it, since it appears she stopped taking the suppressor pills. Then, on the second anniversary of their wedding, he takes her for this romantic holiday. At the inn where they were staying, in the middle of nowhere, he beats her nearly to death, rapes the fuck out of her while she's laying, bleeding, on the carpet, then shoves a knife into her chest and stomach a few times. Then he cleans up, wraps her in a garbage bag, still naked, and dumps her in a field. The only reason she didn't die is because her TK had recovered, at least in a weak form, and she was able to use it to keep from bleeding out. The police found her, and then the Organization recovered her and made everything disappear."

He finished his biscuit and coffee, and then stared at me with something close to sympathy for Noonan. "When she was brought in, the Company used Monroe's blood to completely heal her physical injuries. She voluntarily took a cell in the same level we keep Monroe. She stayed there for quite a while. She never left. She ate enough to stay alive, but only just. She showered when she grew so dirty she couldn't stand it. Mostly she just sat there. She stared blankly into nothing. I checked on her a couple times. What I saw in her eyes scared the shit out of me, to be honest. Finally, she realized that Randy was out there, living it up on the money he got from her life insurance- see, when we disappeared her, the cops had nothing to prove it was murder so the insurance company was forced to pay up. I gather it was a rather large amount.

"Anyway, she shows up one day at Paladini's law office. He had only recently made partner and was celebrating a major victory. I gather he was preparing a private celebration with another partner who he had been seeing behind Sarah's back." He shuddered slightly in memory. "She slaughtered everybody. Clerks. Defendants. Lawyers. The only people who got away were those who ran faster than she could kill them. Finally, she reached Randy's office. Nobody that was there had a chance to get away. She took her time with Randy. It was ugly and bloody."

Shrugging, he cleaned his glasses again. "So, yes, she's changed. I'm not even sure she still has a soul. She took the name Black Widow. She regrets killing the innocents, but I don't think she'll ever regret killing her ex-husband. Where she used to do the job and come back, relishing her record as one of the two best Agents this Company has ever produced, she now simply does the job and comes back. She takes no pleasure in anything as far as I know. There is no passion in what she does, in who she is. I don't think she's capable of joy, of pleasure. She knows hatred. She knows rage. She knows contempt. The next time you meet her, look in her eyes. The best way I know to describe them is that they have the devil in a cage. They're not empty, but they are soulless." Pulling some cash out of his wallet, he dropped it on the table and stood up. "So, now you know. She won't be pushed, she won't be prodded. She has a shorter fuse even than you. Remember that, please. Now, let's go back."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Isla Cangrejos, South Caribbean Sea; Not So Distant Future<strong>_

He stood on the front patio, staring out at the ocean where his new playmate, Ariana, was swimming in the afternoon heat. When the phone rang, he glanced at the caller ID and swore under his breath. Picking it up, he turned away from the view. "It's about damn time."

Madeline Williams, Maddie to her friends, enemies, and coworkers, rolled her eyes and raised her middle finger in what she assumed was the general direction of the island she knew he was on. "Not even a hello, sexy? After everything I've done for…and to…you, I don't even rate a common courtesy?"

Havoc sighed heavily. "Yeah, sure. Hello. Now, what are you doing?"

Maddie grinned as she waved the Flight Attendant over to refill her glass. "Well, at the moment I'm flying first class and wondering why the hell I've ever allowed the Company to fly me coach."

Havoc swore under his breath. "The Company's flying you out here? What the FUCK are you thinking, girl?"

She laughed lightly. "Seriously, Ricky, you need to lighten up and find a sense of humor. They don't have a clue we're coming." Taking a sip from her margarita, she swore when she realized what she'd just said.

Havoc swore loudly. "WE? JUST WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? AND WHO THE FUCK IS 'WE'?"

Maddie glanced over at her fellow passenger and shrugged, wincing inwardly at the slip of the tongue. "Well…he's a dark, tall cuppa, let me tell you. And I wouldn't mind giving him another test run or six, if you know what I mean."

Havoc was many things, but he wasn't stupid. From her comment, she was bringing Sylar along with her. "HOLY FUCKING SHIT, MAD! What the fucking HELL are you doing bringing him out here?" _Shit! Sarah's going to fucking freak!_

She shrugged, knowing he couldn't see it. Taking a larger than recommended drink from her margarita, she coughed lightly. "I didn't have a hell of a lot of choice. He kind of invited himself."

_Damn. Damn. Damn. DAMN!_ Breathing deeply, Havoc forced his voice to normal and glanced back at the beach to see if Ariana had been paying any attention to what was going on. When he realized she was still swimming, apparently oblivious to his raised voice, he relaxed slightly. _Damn it!_ "Okay. Not a hell of a lot we can do about it right now, but there's going to be hell to pay when _she_ finds out he's here. How long until you can get here?"

Maddie relaxed slightly, but only slightly. _He's done yelling. That only means he'll kill me slowly when I get there. Why'd I volunteer to do this, again?_ "Well, it's going to be another half dozen hours before we can land. Then we have to find this boat I chartered to get us to your island. Between locating the boat and taking the ride to the island it'll be another couple days, at least. Call it at least three or four days?"

"Fine. We're going to have a chat when you get here." Hanging up the phone, he started toward the beach. _Sarah's going to kill me. Again._

Maddie heard the dial-tone and hung up, putting the phone in her small bag. Glancing over at Sylar, she shrugged. "Well, he knows we're coming. I just hope he's in a good mood when we get there, because right now he sounds ready to kill us both. In an interesting fashion. Over a period of time."

Sylar, having boarded the plane under the name Zachary Norton, simply looked at her for a minute before looking out of the window. _Shit. Sarah's going to kill me when she sees me. Again._

* * *

><p><em><em>_Author's Note:  
><em>

_For those of you who have read my previous story, Let Slip The Dogs Of War, I am fully aware that the timeline for the start of this story and the timeline at the end of that story don't match, even though they both cover the same event- Havoc & Sarah being partnered for the first time. There are a lot of reasons for that, but the primary one is simply that I wasn't paying as much attention when I wrote Dogs as I should have been. The timeline in this story is accurate, that ending timeline is not. At some point, in the future, I'll fix that ending to make them match. I apologize for screwing up.  
><em>

_That being said, I'm assuming some will stumble into this who haven't read Dogs. To understand the primary character in this story, Michael "Havoc" Torres, it would help if, when you have the time, you would read that one as well. Also, partially because, with her permission, I'm using her character Sarah Jane Noonan in this story, but also because she's just a straight bombin' author, I highly recommend **any** of the stories penned by OnyxRiver. Especially, for the purposes of understanding who this character is, read her story Burning The Picket Fence. It's well worth your time.  
><em>


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